


Rebel Rebel

by the_dala



Series: The Man Who Fell to Earth [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dala/pseuds/the_dala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was supposed to be an easy mission. A recon ship had spotted an abandoned First Order base; the general put together a team with knowledge of their systems; they’d get in, get the intel, and get out. So naturally it ended with Finn back in Medical, covered in bacta patches.</i>
</p><p>A mission goes wrong and Finn makes a decision.</p><p>(Part Two of a series based on Bowie song titles)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebel Rebel

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been listening to a lot of David Bowie since his passing, and decided that a lot of his songs serve as excellent Stormpilot inspiration. This will be a series of linked fics around that theme (I've got six outlined right now, but there might be more).
> 
> Previous story: [All the Young Dudes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5719690).
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr as [the-dala](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/the-dala).

It was supposed to be an easy mission. A recon ship had spotted an abandoned First Order base; the general put together a team with knowledge of their systems; they’d get in, get the intel, and get out. So naturally it ended with Finn back in Medical, covered in bacta patches.

He’d spent quite a lot of time with Dr. Kalonia by now, and he was at least able to talk his way out of observation. The burns, he argued, would heal just as well from his own bed as they would in a med-bed. She had pursed her lips in disapproval, but finally relented.

“As long as you go directly to your quarters, young man,” she said, holding up her stylus in a somewhat threatening manner. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Of course,” Finn assured her, letting a medical droid assist him with shrugging a shirt on. 

Instead he went for a walk. 

He would have preferred to run. It had been an integral part of his rehab process, and he’d grown to appreciate the solid earth under his feet and fresh air on his face - nothing like the experience of slogging away on a treadmill aboard a Star Destroyer. Poe and Rey were baffled by this habit, as they both abhorred any kind of exercise that wasn’t combat-related (Rey had spent too many years measuring her meager calorie intake against the physical effort required to get it; Poe claimed he was just lazy at heart). But running made Finn feel like he was making the most of his hard-won freedom, even if he came back to his starting point at the end. Jessika had taken to joining him on the thin, winding trail through the woods that circled the base when she had the chance. Poe shook his head and called them sweaty masochists when they got back, but he always had a couple of bottles of water waiting.

Finn wasn’t in the mood for company today, even if his movement hadn't been restricted by the thick patches. Though the anesthetics kept pain at bay, he climbed gingerly up the little rocky path behind the armory. Kalonia would level him with that disappointed look if his wounds hadn’t healed right when he returned, which was infinitely worse than being yelled at. 

The sun was nearly at the treeline when he made it to the rooftop. Finn sat at the edge, letting his legs hang over, and leaned back on his hands to watch its glow begin to dim. It wasn’t five minutes before he heard the sound of boots crunching over gravel.

“Those burns don’t look too bad.” Poe’s left arm was still in a sling, which must have made his ascent interesting. There were a few burns and scrapes on his face in addition to the compound fracture. 

“They’d look a lot worse if you hadn’t pulled me back.” Finn reached up to help him settle down. 

Poe squinted into the sunset. “Which I wouldn’t have had to do if you hadn’t gotten too close.” He said it plainly, without accusation, even though Finn had technically disobeyed his order.

He closed his eyes, the afterimage lingering on his lids, painting his memories in red and gold.

_”Stay back!” Her voice sounding so young and small, despite her height and the well-bred tenor of her Core accent. He figured she’d been plucked from some desk job and stuffed into that ill-fitting suit after Starkiller blew. Maybe she’d always wanted to be a trooper but never passed muster until they grew desperate for bodies; maybe she never imagined her service to the Order would lead to a combat position. Either way, the armor didn’t fit and she’d been abandoned here._

_Finn held his arms up, aware of Poe’s position to his left, blaster in hand. But the girl had a blaster too. It wavered in her left hand as she shifted aim between the two of them. In her right hand, she held a thermal detonator._

_“Easy, hey, we’re not gonna hurt you.”_

_He took a step forward, leaves crunching under his foot._

_“Ensign Finn,” Poe said, his voice tight with warning._

_She was shaking, but she held her ground. “You?” she demanded, the blaster barrel swinging back to point at him. “You’re the one who left?”_

“You can’t see for shit through those helmets - sure, they’ve got night vision and infrared, but it’s hard to make out details like a person’s expression.” Finn picked at the edge of a bandage on his neck. “I needed her to see my face.”

“Even though all First Order troops have orders to shoot that face on sight.”

“But she didn’t,” Finn snapped. “She was going to drop the detonator.” 

Until the rest of the platoon had emerged from their cover to the north, and raised their guns while Finn and Poe both shouted at them to hold fire, and the lone stormtrooper pressed the pin. It wasn’t even a powerful charge, as Finn and Poe’s minor injuries could attest. Just enough to blow herself and the control console into a thousand pieces.

“She was going to drop it, Poe.” Finn’s eyes burned. An ache had begun to radiate from the base of his spine. A bird cried from somewhere in the treetops, immediately answered by a chattering fellow.

Poe’s fist clenched on his own thigh - it was the first time he’d ever hesitated to reach out. Finn drew a ragged breath and turned his head, which was all the encouragement Poe needed to pull him in. His good arm spanned Finn’s back, his fingers curling into the tension between Finn’s shoulder blades.

Finn tried to be careful of the flexicast as he wrapped his arms around Poe’s waist. If he’d caused any pain, Poe didn’t voice it; he just said Finn’s name, murmured it against his temple.

“I can’t -” He tucked his face into Poe’s neck, keeping his words safe there. “I don’t think I should be in the field right now. I’m going to talk to General Organa and Dr. Kalonia about training as a medic.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Poe said. His thumb stroked the shell of Finn’s ear. “They’re always short-staffed, and you’ll be great at it.”

Finn lifted his head. “You don’t think that…” 

“I think the Resistance is lucky to have you in any capacity,” Poe said fiercely, his eyes flashing in recognition of what Finn hadn’t said. “I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met, and you don’t need to fight to prove it.”

The last rays of the sun framed his face in light and shadow, softening the strain of the day at the corners of his eyes and his mouth. It reminded Finn of a piece of art he had seen once when he delivered a message to an admiral’s private quarters. The walls of his dorm and training room and mess hall were bare except for the occasional motivational poster, empty slogans marching across the First Order logo in stark black print. He had stood at attention while the admiral composed his response, but his gaze kept flitting back to the rich colors and fine strokes of that painting.

Finn’s lips parted, but before he could speak the stillness was broken by the distinctive wail of an approaching ship. They both looked up to the darkening sky.

“It’s the _Falcon_.” Finn’s heart leapt in his chest. He scrambled to his feet, heedless of disturbing the bacta patches. “Come on, Rey’s landing!”

He reached down to help Poe up. They didn’t bother with the stone path, heading instead for the rooftop door. Finn squeezed Poe’s hand before letting go, feeling a twinge of regret that they’d been interrupted. The way Poe had been looking at him, the light in his eyes, he’d thought that maybe - 

Poe grinned at him, dusting the grit from the seat of his pants. “Race you to the tarmac.” He darted through the door and let it shut behind him.

“Cheater,” Finn muttered, putting the sunset and the painting and Poe’s brown eyes out of his mind for the time being. Rey was home and he had so much to tell her.

**Author's Note:**

> Next story: John, I'm Only Dancing


End file.
